Sketch
by MandyT
Summary: Every time Hector would tell himself that Leila was dead... she was gone... [HectorxMathew, MathewxLeila one-shot]


A/N: Just a Hector/Mathew ficlet with a bunch of Mathew/Leila piled on there too. Basically I wanted to write some Mathew slash that also addressed the whole Mathew/Leila thing… so here 'tis.

**Sketch**

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Mathew had dearly loved Leila, and Leila had dearly loved Mathew. The sheer joy they had shown in each other's company was proof enough for that. Mathew would always be joking and laughing, and Leila would always smile and act so carefree. Her eyes would sparkle in way they never had before outside of Mathew's presence. They danced and twinkled in a way that showed the true joy in life, the true joy of love.

After she died Mathew did not outwardly appear to change much, he still joked and carried on, but there was always something lurking just below the surface, something that was missing. It was as if when Leila's lively eyes died, she took some of Mathew's life with her.

When Leila was still alive and Mathew and her were spending their time off together, Mathew sought out a traveling artist and had him draw Leila for him. It was nothing more than a sketch; a rough likeliness of Leila on a ragged piece of paper, yet the artist seemed truly skilled. He had managed to catch Leila's eyes in the exact way they were in those days, vibrant and animated. They seemed to jump out of the picture; it was as if Leila were really there. In many ways the sketch looked more like Leila than her lifeless body laying in Mathew's arms had.

Not many had seen the sketch besides Hector, Mathew usually kept it out of sight. But every once and awhile one could catch a glimpse of a corner of it hanging out of Mathew's pocket, or among his few belongings, or lying beside him at night. He kept it with him always, and where Mathew was, the sketch was not far away.

Days, weeks, maybe months had gone by since Leila's untimely demise. While it was not forgotten, many had chosen to put it at the back of their minds. Perhaps even Mathew had thought it was best not to think about it that much. Either way, nothing had been said about it for a while now.

Hector had always been very supportive of Mathew and Leila's relationship, and had tried his hardest to help Mathew through his loss. It was no lie, however, that Hector was incredibly attracted to the young thief. His days on the road would often be spent observing Mathew, watching his loyal spy's every movement.

Mathew seemed to move like a cat, every action and movement was like liquid, smooth and flowing yet very precisely timed. His body was amazing, muscular yet lithe, his face beautiful yet ever so masculine, serious and determined yet boyish and witty. The way his face seemed to light up when he had great plan never ceased to bring a smile to Hector's lips.

They talked often, Hector and Mathew. Usually it was nothing more than a servant to his master; the progress of the day, things observed in battle, talk of troops and supplies. Hardly ever did they stray from this trivial talk, though their relationship was much more than that of an acquaintance. There was something underlying, some deeper loyalty for each other, as men of the same country, as fellow comrades, a good friends.

During these talks Hector would often look at Mathew, and take in all the he admired the man for. How desperately Hector wanted to tell Mathew how he felt. Leila was dead, wasn't she? While Hector really did hate thinking this, it was true, wasn't it? Leila was no longer here. So nobody could condemn him for wanting to start a relationship with Mathew that was more than the friendship of a master and his servant. Could they? Hector desperately wanted to confess to Mathew, to murmur it in his ear, to kiss him, to hold him, to do anything that would show the other man his true feelings.

Wherever Mathew was, Leila's sketch was always nearby. Hector would spy it when they were talking; sometimes a corner of it could be seen hanging out of Mathew's pocket, sometimes among his belongings, sometimes lying by his side. Leila's gone, Hector would tell himself as he leaned in closer to Mathew, but every time those vivid, lively eyes would flash up at him, and Hector would remember that she wasn't.


End file.
